Dazey Dazey
by TarynWanderer
Summary: The dog was squeaky and annoying. Turkish hated it. T/T SLASH, bondage.


They finally had their hands on a fortune. After all that working, and scheming, and dodging. They finally got their reward.

Granted, it didn't involve any real working or scheming or dodging – it was just a case of being in the right place at the right time. But so much of the grief in their lives was caused by being in the wrong place at the wrong time that Turkish was going to consider this his long overdue reward.

The diamond they found in the dog's stomach fetched them more money than Turkish had ever dreamed of possessing at one time. Paranoia gripped him and he decided they needed to spend the money in as many different places as possible so nobody could take it away from them. They decided not to tell Gorgeous or Charlie or Turkish's family, as it would cause more problems than it would solve. Deciding all this was extremely stressful.

Tommy was no help at all.

Tommy had already got everything he would possibly want. "I trust you," he told Turkish when asked his opinion. He was rolling on the floor with that fucking dog at the time, and was barely ever seen without it these days.

So Turkish decided to pay back their debts, and he floated a sizable amount to his mum so she wouldn't have to worry about the rest of her days – but not too much so that she'd ask too many nosy questions. The little townhouse near Kensington Gardens wasn't difficult to secure, and they had more than enough left over to look into properties in Spain.

They were actually, somehow, quite close to living the dream.

For Turkish however, that dream was usually interrupted by early morning barking and scratching at the door. And Tommy wriggling out of bed so he could rush to tend to whatever the dog's needs were this time.

Turkish was watching the footy and having a drink one afternoon when Tommy came home from running errands, with the dog, Dazey, on a lead.

"Not Daisy like a daisy," Tommy had told him when Turkish scoffed at the name, when they were driving back from the pykie camp and the dog was wheezing and squeaking away. "Dazey like he's in a daze, like you'd say dozey or dizzy."

"Well one of you is certainly dizzy," Turkish had muttered, ignoring Tommy's indignant jaw drop.

Dazey bounded into the lounge as soon as Tommy let him off his lead, and leapt up onto the couch with Turkish, yipping and mewling and slobbering.

"Dazey don't!" Tommy called out, rushing into the lounge after kicking off his shoes. "Don't bother daddy," he scolded.

"Jesus Christ," Turkish said. "Don't call me daddy in front of the dog."

"Dazey come here," Tommy called out, patting his knees, and the dog waddled over to him. "Who's a good boy?" Tommy said gently, sitting on the floor cuddling Dazey.

"Do I even get a hello?" Turkish asked.

"Hello Turkish," Tommy said, not looking up from where his face was getting slobbered on.

"That's not a proper hello. You haven't given me a proper hello in weeks."

"Are you jealous?" Tommy asked, ruffling Dazey's ears.

"I am not jealous of a dog. I'm just a little alarmed at your priorities Tommy," Turkish's lip curled and he tried to keep his voice steady and manly and definitely not whiny.

"Okay, hold on," Tommy huffed. He squeezed Dazey close to him and pressed kisses all over the dog's face. Dazey returned the favour with his disgusting dog tongue. Then Tommy went over to the other side of the lounge and put Dazey out into the garden, sliding the glass doors shut.

Tommy walked back to the older man with his hands clasped behind his back. He stood between Turkish's knees for a little while, smiling impishly, and then knelt.

"Hello Turkish," Tommy said slowly, eyes wide, rubbing his hands up and down Turkish's thighs.

"That's better," Turkish smiled.

Tommy stroked the older man's legs, and his fingers went up, up, up, until they were tugging Turkish's shirt out from his trousers. "Did you have a good day?" he asked, his face close to Turkish's belly, his breath hot.

"I'm having a better day now," Turkish said, his eyes sinking shut. His hand reached out and caressed Tommy's hair.

Tommy smiled knowingly, and kissed Turkish's stomach through his shirt. He buried his face in Turkish's crotch with a happy sigh, and then he opened Turkish's fly. He gently touched Turkish's hardening cock with his fingertips.

"I can see that," Tommy said, licking his lips. He lowered his face.

"Hold tight!" Turkish pushed him back suddenly. "You were just kissing that dog!"

Tommy stared at him, dumbfounded. "Yeah?"

"I don't want your mouth on me after that dog's tongue has been all over your face! Go clean up!"

Tommy's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?" he pushed his face up to Turkish, who recoiled. "You won't even kiss me! You know a dog's mouth is cleaner than a human's anyway."

"I don't care! It's disgusting!"

Tommy huffed. He crudely tucked Turkish back into his trousers, making Turkish squeal indignantly. "Well you can take care of this by yourself then, mate," Tommy said, and then he stomped off to the garden.

--

They made up after dinner quite easily, and a few cans of lager later they were snuggled up tightly together on their gigantic new bed, tongues tied tight, limbs wound around each other.

Turkish's skin was hot, and his pride was still a little bruised. He needed to be in charge of something, to win. He hadn't been in a fight since they moved out to Kensington – people were a bit more civilized around here. It was a little suffocating, and all that pent up aggression was starting to slip out.

Turkish pushed Tommy around under the covers, and dug his fingers into Tommy's shoulders while kissing him hard. Tommy was pliant, letting Turkish take the lead. The younger man grunted and whimpered slightly when Turkish moved down to bite his neck, kicking gently, futilely.

Then, they heard the slight pounding of tiny feet on on the floor - "woof, woof, woof" and Dazey bounded into the bed.

"Dazey!" Tommy cried, almost sounding relieved for fuck's sake. He squeezed out from under Turkish and took the dog into his arms.

"You are taking the piss," Turkish sneered. "Tell me you're taking the piss."

"He gets fussy at night," said Tommy.

"He's not the only one," Turkish responded, picking the dog up and depositing him outside the door, slamming it shut. He stormed back to the bed and grasped Tommy's wrists tightly. "I have not had your undivided attention in quite some time, Tommy," he said, "but I am going to remedy that. Tonight I am going to fuck you if I have to tie you up to do so."

Tommy turned bright red and he squirmed under Turkish's grip. "Okay," he consented, his voice barely audible.

Turkish pushed Tommy back down on the bed, grinding his erection into Tommy's thigh, plunging his tongue into the boy's mouth.

Then he lifted Tommy and flipped him over, growling a little while Tommy laughed. He picked up the boy's hands and placed them on the metal bars that formed the bed frame's headboard. He planted a few soft kisses down Tommy's neck. "Hold right there," he said softly, and Tommy murmured his assent.

Turkish kept rope in the bedside table. He lashed it around Tommy's wrists and tied his hands tightly to the headboard.

"Ung," Tommy started – it was the rough, itchy rope that Turkish sometimes used, not the soft hemp rope that Tommy preferred.

"Shush," Turkish silenced him, taking the tube of lube out and tossing it on the bed. He ran his hands over the younger man's back. "I don't even care, Tommy."

Turkish liked touching Tommy, he liked the younger man's compact body and softer build, he liked his smooth skin and darker complexion. He liked rubbing his stubbly face on the soft parts – the underside of Tommy's arms and legs. He liked the way Tommy would squirm when he did that.

"I love you Turkish," Tommy said, too soon like he usually did. Turkish leaned against Tommy and wrapped his arms around the boy's torso and buried his face in the boy's neck.

"I love you too," he said, reaching down between Tommy's legs and caressing his bottom, rubbing his hardness closer and closer.

Then:

The "whee, whee whee" sound of a dog whining, and "skritch skritch skritch" at the door.

Tommy looked over his shoulder, face etched with worry, mouth open to call out Dazey's name.

"Shut up!" Turkish cried before the boy got a sound out. He leaned over Tommy, gripping the headboard above Tommy's hands. "If you say one word about that dog I'll gag you. Do you want that?"

Tommy shook his head, eyes wide. He hated being gagged (except for when he really liked it.)

The scritching continued and Turkish stomped out of the room. He scooped the whiny dog up and in a matter of seconds had run downstairs, put it out in the garden, and run back up.

He banged the door shut behind him.

Tommy was breathing heavily, biting his lip. He made a point not to make eye contact, keeping his head down, and decided not to say anything about Turkish touching the dog and not washing his hands. He heard Turkish squeeze out lube and felt it being unceremoniously slathered inside him.

Tommy wanted to be fucked so badly, he would ignore all the other stuff – the itchy rope, poor Dazey being dumped in the garden, being forbidden to make a sound. He knew from experience that it would be worth it.

Turkish ran his hands roughly over Tommy one more time, a token gesture, and then grasped the younger man's hips as he pressed his cock inside. Tommy bit down harder on his lip as he was fucked, his hands white-knuckled gripping the headboard. His skin was on fire and his insides insatiable.

Turkish, panting and thrusting, reached up and under and pinched Tommy's nipples, and around, and his belly and his sides. Tommy lost the resolve on biting his lip and cried out.

"Fuck me Tommy I love you," Turkish muttered at that point, pressing against Tommy's back and crushing the boy to him. Tommy just cried incoherently as they continued on, taking full advantage of not being gagged.

They rocked and thrust and came a short time from one another. Tommy was asleep before Turkish untied him.

They both slept so soundly that neither of them heard Dazey howling all night.

--

The neighbours did hear Dazey howling however. The next morning they got a call from the City of London noise by-law people, saying that if they had another complaint they would send the police round to talk to them, and they might possibly lose Dazey. Of course Turkish didn't want the police back in his life, but he wouldn't mind losing Dazey very much. Tommy was devastated by the mere thought.

"Poor darling," Tommy said for the hundredth time that day, sitting on the lounge sofa hugging Dazey close. "I won't neglect you like that again. I won't let Turkish put you in the garden at night anymore. My poor darling!" Dazey snuffled stupidly and didn't understand a word of it, because he was a dog.

Turkish looked over from the kitchen counter and sighed, which for several years was his response to whatever idiotic things Tommy was saying. He looked through a few of the brochures for holiday properties they had on the counter.

"I keep telling you, that dog is nothing but trouble," he said. "At least he can't come to Spain with us."

Tommy's head shot up, his face dark. "Why not?"

The End.


End file.
